I was looking through all my picture files on Picasa the other day. I’m noticing a trend.

I can take some super funky pictures. I mean, I can really pull a face. Sort of like I’m related to Jim Carrey, except without the voices and I’m not raking in the millions. Jim, call me! I’m always willing to pimp myself out for some kind of supporting role. Apparently I have no filter, nor do I have any shame.

My poor friends. When I get drunk, I shout at them, “MAKE AN UGLY FACE!!!” They hate it. Who in the world wants to look ugly in a picture? I can only think of two people: Mickey Rourke and Steve-O from Jackass.

I am willing to put all the embarrassment right out there. If I post it for the world to see, I AM IN CONTROL OF THE GAME. I WILL DIG MY OWN GRAVE. Gimme a shovel!

Let’s just take a stroll through the years, through the best of the best. Some of my personal favorites…

This takes us way back…back to about 6 months after my first baby, the borrowing of sweatpants because that’s what I was used to living in, and waaaayyyy too much wine:

Here is a peach:

My husband always loves pictures. He never knows what to expect.

And my friends love to head out to bars with me –

My son likes to capture the loveliness…

…and I’m never afraid to show emotion.

If you fall asleep on my couch, you may get in on the fun:

Of course, I saved the best for last. Sometimes you just have to make a REALLY UGLY FACE.

I will conveniently blame these issues on this man below. I am, in fact, the fruit of his loins. His flesh and blood. He is so proud.

And we are proud to pass on our skills to the next generation. BOO YAH!!

You never know what she’s going to pull out of her bag of tricks for Christmas. This year I caught the prize! My mom gave me a getup that made me feel as if I were channeling David Lee Roth in his heyday. Or Jersey Shore at their worst. Or something. Here’s a glimpse…

Wow, where do we start? The glittery threads? The gold buttons with the bows? THE CHEETAH HOT PANTS?? I know you want to see more!!

This is me doin’ my mom proud on Christmas Eve. I promised her I would wear these pants every day for a week to pick up Beatty from kindergarten. As long as she lets me borrow that awesome fur vest.

This must be David Lee Roth dying to come out. I was a little scared of this picture and the sheerness of the cheetah hot pants. And have you ever looked at your thighs in hot pants IN A PHOTOGRAPH? You think you’re doing pretty good with maintaining those suckers, then you catch a glimpse of the picture and you think, “DAMN, I SHOULD HAVE BEEN A RUNNING BACK.” Never mind that I can’t run very fast.

I was thinking last night about Santa Claus, and the creepiness that is definitely part of the tradition. Don’t get me wrong, we all eventually love Santa, but you can’t blame some kids for being terrified. Beatty had a nightmare last night and wandered into our room crying…I have to think that half the reason for that is on a subconscious level he knows that some big fat magic guy is going to be sneaking into his house soon. On a conscious level, he knows the instrusion will be worth it.

Last year I got my holiday jollies by looking a website called Sketchy Santas. It has pictures that people send in of kids on Santa’s lap. These pictures span the years. They are hilarious. Here is an example of the fun:

I have to admit that one of my new favorite things about Christmas is laughing to myself whenever I see a kid screaming on Santa’s lap in a picture. It is even better in a still shot than witnessing it in real life. The expression of the child – pure terror. The expression on Santa’s face – usually a bit of gleeful madness. This sounds a little cruel, I know…but truly I think it is the cutest thing ever. My friend sent out a Christmas card this year that had a succession of pictures of her three kids at various ages wailing on Santa’s lap. It was by far my favorite of the season.

Last weekend, we decided to haul the kids and my mom to a Christmas brunch buffet where Santa would be in attendance. This in and of itself is always a bad dream and pretty much makes me want to run and hide in the basement. Or guzzle more than three glasses of wine at the table – which, unfortunately, is not possible right now because the baby wants to make one of us chase her around the dirty floor. Or follow her as she crawls up and down the stairs in the restaurant a hundred times. Or block shots of her throwing food at the person next to her. You get the picture. Restaurants are FUN.

This day preparing for our big holiday brunch was particularly NOT fun with my lovely little Christmas gift Sloan. She was grumpy all morning and not pleasant to be around. I will not go so far as to call her the devil’s spawn. That would be mean. I’m not a mean mommy.

We arrived at the venue and immediately went downstairs to find Santa for pictures. My mom thought she would hold Sloan and let her watch the other kids take their turns. In her mind, this would warm her up to the idea. Ummm, yeah.

So Sloan watches Beatty do his thing with Santa, and how priceless is this: When Santa asks Beatty what he wants for Christmas, Beatty tells him, “All I want is a bell from your sleigh.” Could the kid make it any easier on me? I love him!

And then it was the baby’s turn to greet Santa so that I could get the shot I’d been dreaming of all day: